


An ode to her eyes

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [95]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Jaime's musings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29042286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: As the title says, Jaime's obsession with Brienne's eyes right from the time they meet to the wonderful moment they get together.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Many ways to say I love you [95]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1234904
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	An ode to her eyes

**Author's Note:**

> It doesn't rhyme. It's not much, just something that I just kept writing down as it came to my head.

She tugs away the smelly rag from his face, the bluest of eyes boring through his.

And in those deep oceans, disgust is all he can find.

But Jaime cares not—his thoughts are too precious to be wasted on a homely wench like her.

He pulls out his cock to take a piss, proud of his sex, keen to show her her place.

She flinches, only slightly, deprives him of the gaze that binds him night and day, but only fleetingly.

He can’t help steal a glance—is that embarrassment those eyes hold? A blush, mayhaps, those freckled cheeks dare betray?

Jaime chuckles to himself—a victory this is, albeit trivial it may be.

A woman, she is, after all.

He tries not to pass out in pain, strains his mind to make sense of her words.

“Why did you lie to them?” she asks in a muted tone, the pretty eyes that once wished him the worst now looking up at him with pity and gratitude.

Answers, Jaime doesn’t have, though, confusion is something that creeps into his clouded head.

If only shaming her into a corner and goading her into fury could ease his pain, if only it were that easy...

If only mockery were a remedy to his suffering, he’d be whole again.

But when she springs to her feet, not in shame, not a blush on her cheeks, but those eyes blazing, he’s the one to lower his gaze, his voice, his urge to belittle and pelt her with his criticism.

Something stirs when he takes in her dripping form, and it’s not just in his mind. 

Something compels him to tear down this hostility and confess to those eyes.

“I trust you,” he whispers, wishing for her disgust to be washed away with the water trickling down her belly.

When she retreats, a voice, deep down warns Jaime, _Yes, you care._

Firm and steady, she holds him bound to them—no sign of a plea in those eyes, no fear, though there is pain.

Helplessness, he finds, alongside a determined resignation and—a sense of failure, mayhaps?

A tug in his chest—it tells him to step up—is she the _him_ he’s always wanted to be? 

“I give you my word,” he assures her, for he wants to hold his head high, to face those eyes.

“Goodbye, Ser Jaime,” she says, and they soften, caress him with something he’s never found in them before.

Those eyes pursue him; they’re everywhere—in his mind, in his dreams.

She is what Cersei is not—but is this not just a dream?

Those eyes don’t beg for rescue, they do not summon him, yet—

“We’re going back to Harrenhal,” Jaime announces. “I’ve left something behind.”

He rides away to be her knight in shining armour, the knight he always ought to have been.

His heart kicking at his chest, he hopes he isn’t too late, prays for her to the gods he doesn’t care about.

No, this isn’t just a dream, but a choice. As if it could have been otherwise.

She gazes at the armour, overwhelmed, barely able to believe it. She flutters her eyelashes, looks coyly at him—yes, she _is_ blushing this time.

“I’ll find her.” She pauses, blinks again at the pace of his heart. “For Lady Catelyn,” she softly goes on, “and for you,” those eyes making him that promise.

Drawn to their tenderness, he cannot look away. 

Yet, if he ought to let her go, he’d better not step too close, for he might lose his balance, drown in those exquisite pools, never to surface again.

“Oathkeeper,” she calls him, her eyes reflecting the trust he’d once pledged to her.

And an overwhelmed, “Goodbye, Brienne,” is all he has for her, his heart sinking deeper.

Those eyes would never look at him again—not with disgust, not anger, nor compassion or regard.

But one last glimpse of them, she gives him as she rides away, one that will remain with him.

Not today. Not tomorrow. But for days to come. 

“Tarth, Ser Jaime.”

A smile visits his lips when those ocean-eyes visit his mind.

Frequent visitors they have been, ever brilliant, ever mesmerizing, mostly unbidden, though he might have summoned them more than once.

“It will always be yours,” he says, leaving the rest unsaid, searching her eyes, his heart for what they are.. 

Once-enemies? Friends? A pair of star-crossed— _no,_ not that. Not in this life, at least.

She acknowledges, not just what he feels, but his helplessness, what their fates have bound them to.

And when she speaks clearly of her loyalty, he breaks down just a little, but puts himself together to speak his wish aloud.

A hope it is, for a better tomorrow, and he can see that hope in her eyes, too.

 _Maybe someday,_ they tell him, as she walks away from his life again.

She tries to catch his eye, but draws his sister’s attention, instead, and Jaime’s heart leaps up, waves of anxiety gripping his chest.

A glance at the man-mountain, a gruesome recollection of what he’d done to the Viper, more than a fleeting rush of panic and a horrible sense of trepidation—they’re quite enough to keep his eyes from straying, to restrain them from seeking the pair he adores.

They’re hurt when he turns them down, and disappointment and anger, too, he can make out.

Mayhaps, the trust he’s treasured more than his life is lost.

Mayhaps, she’d want to sever his acquaintance.

But one glance at Cersei—he knows his crumbling heart is a small price to pay. 

“This goes beyond houses,” he tells the women who sit to judge his fate, turning, at once, to skim through the countless pairs of eyes staring at him, to seek the only one that matters.

And when they find his, they tell him they still believe in him.

She rises in his defense, in an eloquent voice, proclaims her trust to the others, promises to stand by him, to fight and die by his side.

So would he. He’d die by the side of the woman who still trusts him. In the arms of the woman he loves.

He does his best, but this praise from him throws her off-guard.

So much, he wants to confess, but his nerves get in the way.

If only those eyes could read his…

If only they could see why he came to Winterfell…

If only she’d have him…

The pledge of a knight, he recites, but his eyes speak another tongue.

His sword brushes her shoulders, but how he wishes it were his lips on hers!

This wonderful gift he has given her, but how he wishes she’d have him too, that she’d give him herself, a treasure he’d cherish forever!

When she rises, when those eyes brim with gratitude and such unbounded joy, he yearns for this night to turn into dawn soon.

When she smiles through her unshed tears, he prays to find her at the other side of this war. 

He prays for a life with her, prays that this prayer be granted.

_Ignore my brother,_ he means to say, when he chases her upstairs, but when she opens the door, Tyrion’s words come rushing back to stab him.

“Is it Tormund?” he asks, instead of pacifying her. 

“Why do you ask?” she replies, instead of answering him.

“Why do you think I’d ask?” He pours out a goblet, draws in a gulp to draw in some courage. “Why do you think I rode all the way North, my lady?” 

“Why did you?” she goes on, and there it is in that enchanting gaze. So blinded by envy he was, that he’d failed to catch it.

Jaime steps so close that he can feel her in his breath. “Your eyes, Brienne,” he whispers, taking her hand. “Did they not tell me what to do?”

Tonight again, they do. They tell him to kiss her.

And he does. How could he ever deny them?

**Author's Note:**

> No smut this time, but a whole lot of feels!  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
